


Mama I'm Sorry

by Reiya_Wakayama



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Ghouls, Mild Gore, Stiles does what needs to be done, Superwolf, somewhat happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:12:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is so fucking tired of fate and the way it just tries to destroy his life at every turn and when two hunters come to town, he knows it’s not for a social visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mama I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> I was really fascinated by the episode with the ghouls and how they sound, act and have all their victims’ memories. So here’s some Stiles and Mama Stilinski feels to make everyone cry.

When word of two hunters coming to town reaches Stiles and the pack, they put their guard up a notch. More patrols and no wolfing out unless they know they’re safe. Stiles for his part, spends his time keeping an ear out for where the hunters have been.

When word reaches him about them scouring the local cemetery, he frowns and decides to visit it as well. He has an excuse to be there any way if they are there and ask. He decides to make a day of it and stops by the local flower shop to pick up some daffodils, his mom’s favorites, to put on her marker.

It’s nearly dark out, only a sliver of sun peaking over the trees when he arrives. The cemetery is empty. He makes his way along the rows, following a familiar path. He doesn’t see anyone around. He doesn’t notice anything wrong until he gets close enough to her grave.

The ground is disturbed, as if freshly dug…or as if someone has crawled out of the soil. Something moves out of the corner of his eye and he looks up to see a brunette woman standing just under the tree line. He can see his eyes and nose in her face, his many moles.

The flowers drop to the churned earth and Stiles can only stare at his mother restored to her former beauty and not ravaged by sickness. “Mom?” he asks, can only stare at her like she’s a mirage.

“I’m real,” she whispers and then Stiles takes off to hug her, crying as she holds him and he takes in her familiar scent. They spend the rest of the night talking. As dawn gets nearer, he starts to yawn more. They end up arguing. He wants to take her home, show her to dad, and show she’s alive.

She says no, that it would only hurt him more and that he needs to keep her reappearance between just the two of them, which others would never understand what has happened. Seeing the logic, Stiles agrees reluctantly. He asks if he can come back tomorrow and she agrees with a fond smile. He leaves with a wave and one last hug.

~*~

He meets up with the two hunters the next afternoon, asking him what he knows about the disturbed graves, over twenty of them. Stiles lies and is glad that none of the pack is there to hear his heart skip on the lie. They frown, wanting to argue but they can’t tell he is lying so let him go.

He continues to meet up with his mom for the next week, enjoying their time together, even if the late nights of little to no sleep is draining on him. He knows though that life isn’t this kind to him and that soon, it will all come crashing down around his ears.

~*~

It’s the night of the full moon and the pack is tied up, keeping each other from running off on a killing spree which leaves Stiles with plenty of free time to go to visit his mom. He goes a little earlier than usual. It’s light enough out and he goes to their usual spot.

She’s not there, but he’s not surprised. What he is surprised about is the trail of blood and drag marks the head into the woods away from the cemetery. Heart in his throat, Stiles follows them through the trees. He stumbles upon an old decrepit house tucked deep into the trees. The wood is rotting and falling apart.

He can hear someone talking inside and he creeps close until he’s at a window. Peering inside, he is met with a horrifying sight. One of the hunters is strapped to a table, chest slashed in spots along with his wrist which have bowls just below them to collect falling blood. In the background is the other hunter, knocked out.

Standing above him is his mom, grinning maniacally with her mouth streaked with blood and her hands dripping with it, a knife clasped in her hand. And Stiles knows there’s only one thing he can do. There is only one right path he can take and he hates it.

He creeps around to the door and slips in unnoticed. He finds their weapons on the floor in a pile. He grabs the closest thing, a silver handgun, and cocks it, leveling the barrel at his mother’s back. She turns at the noise and Stiles’ hand starts to shake.

“Stiles honey, what are you doing?” she asks in his mother’s soft reproaching voice she would use when he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.

“You’re not my mother,” Stiles says flatly, swallows and pulls the trigger four times, each bullet landing true, once in the chest and the other three in her head. The ghoul lets out a gurgle and falls to the ground dead.

Setting the gun down with shaky fingers, Stiles walks over and quickly unties the brunette hunter strapped to the table. It’s quick work to use some of the rope to make a makeshift tourniquet to stop the bleed in his wrists.

The other hunter is just starting to come around as Stiles saws through his bindings. “How’d you know?” the brunette, Dean, asks. The other, Sam, just watches them, still out of it.

“Bestiary,” Stiles mutters and then just walks out of the house, leaving the two to clean up. Stiles trudges back to his jeep parked by the cemetery. He tries to drive away, but he can’t. So he just sits in the jeep and stares out the windshield at the stretch of graves for the rest of the night, even if he can’t see them.

The sun is just creeping up when a car pulls up beside his. His dad slides into the jeep next to him. “Someone called, said you’d been out here all night. Wanna talk about it?” he asks, looking at his son.

Stiles shakes his head and they continue to sit in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Stiles speaks up, breaking his vigil. “I miss mom,” he whispers, looking at his dad.

“I know kiddo. So do I,” his dad says back, pulling him into a one armed hug. They spend a few more minutes in silence before disentangling. His dad gets out and goes back to his car. As he starts to turn the car to follow his dad back to the main road, he glances out his window and see the two hunters watching him from the tree line. Giving them a nod in thanks, he leaves the cemetery.

**End.**


End file.
